


Give It A Chance

by dovingbird



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: AU in which Arin has not met Suzy yet, Egobang - Freeform, Fluff, Grinding, High School AU, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Porn Mention, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A filled commission. So Arin is Danny's best friend, everybody knows it, but now that they've graduated from high school and moved in together Danny's being forced to consider the fact that he maybe really sort of wants to see his schween? What the crap? But the urge is there and apparently important, so he sets out to make it happen, all the while nervously hoping that it's not going to go catastrophically wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give It A Chance

If there's anything that Danny's learned over the past few years, it's that your life gets a hell of a lot more difficult when you've got a raging boner for your best friend that may or may not be one hundred percent straight.  
  
That's really sucky, isn't it? Having a best friend, someone that's been there for years, and having no idea what his exact sexual preferences are? It's not like it's never occurred to Dan to ask, but that's because he thought for a good fifteen years that he was only into vaginas, and then sophomore year of high school, what happens?  
  
Electives. Electives happen.  
  
There's a theater class that he ends up in because improv is one of the coolest things he's ever seen and there's this kid that sits behind him with his jiggling foot propped up on the book basket under Dan's seat and he's constantly doodling in his notebook, and it takes only three days before the guy leans forward and shoves his notebook in Danny's face and asks “Does this look like a dick flying into outer space to you, or...?”  
  
It's Arin, of course, though Dan doesn't catch his last name for months, doesn't think to ask even though he becomes Arin's personal drawing critic every time they have a break during class even though he doesn't know the first thing about art. That's how it starts, at least.  
  
Arin becomes his preferred acting partner even before they get to cut their teeth on improv, the dude he turns to nonchalantly when the teacher hands out assignments that require two people and makes casual conversation with for a few seconds before he asks if Arin's got a partner yet, and oh, you haven't, you need one, well, it just so happens that so do I, how convenient.  
  
It's Christmas Break before Dan realizes that he misses him.  
  
It's the last day of class before Dan realizes that he's got more pictures of Arin in his phone than of himself.  
  
Things escalate from there. Suddenly things go from 'Arin has a hilarious laugh' to 'I want to make Arin laugh as much as possible' to 'Just making Arin smile is enough to make my worst possible day better.' They're studying for a final exam junior year in the library and Danny's just not getting the shit he's supposed to be absorbing, and Arin leans close to murmur an incredibly inappropriate joke in Dan's ear and he's so distracted by the warm tickle of his breath across his cheek that it takes him a second to remember to laugh.  
  
They're in hour four of the extremely boring and tedious high school graduation rehearsal when Dan glances over his shoulder two rows and three seats to the right and Arin immediately meets his eyes, flashes a smirk through his messy bangs, and Danny maybe forgets to breathe a little.  
  
Is it selfishness that makes Danny ask Arin if he wants to get an apartment together? Nah, not really. Arin's not gonna bother with college, after all, grabs a steady but gross retail job and start pursuing his drawing in earnest, and Dan figures he'll just go with a community college to get the required classes until he can figure out what he actually wants to do. They can afford something together.  
  
Still. At least Arin is there literally all the time. And at least he never seems annoyed by Dan.  
  
That's why Danny is eighteen years old now and pacing his bedroom floor and thinking about how he's been living with Arin for six months and how nothing's getting better, God, it's getting _worse,_ it's getting messy and complicated, and he's pretty sure that if he tries to count the number of times he's wondered what Arin's dick would look like next to his that he'd be here for a good hour documenting them all. And it can't stay like this, it just can't. He can't sit around wondering if it's just Arin whose cock he wants to touch or if there's always been other ones but he just successfully repressed it until now. He can't question what it means for their friendship if he slips up one day and says the wrong thing and burns it all down.  
  
So he has a half-assed plan. It may or may not involve a lot of shame on Danny's part. And he's gonna make it happen whether the universe likes it or not.  
  
He's gonna do it today, right fucking now, and for a moment he considers reciting Selichot. But then there's a knock at his bedroom door, and Arin's the only one in the apartment, so he settles for a deep breath before he opens it.  
  
Arin grins at him. “Hey dude, can I come in? You busy?”  
  
“Nah, I just...” Dan shrugs, gesturing inside. “You know, just...stuff.”  
  
“Stuff? Wow. Sophisticated college man.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Arin smirks, bumping his shoulder against him as he goes by. He plops down on Dan's bed and leans back into the mattress on his palms, cocking his head to the side. “I dunno, I just wanted to see if you wanted to do anything. Play some games, watch a movie, something. I'm bored as hell and blocked on my latest project – you know, the thing-”  
  
“The video game critique thing, yeah.” Dan follows Arin's art closer than he wants to admit. He's smiling, he realizes, but it's painful, fucking strained at the edges. It's his tic, the way he tries to hide when he's nervous. Hopefully Arin won't catch it. “Yeah, I could...we could hang, sure, I'm not busy.”  
  
“You sure?” Arin's eyes goes straight for the notebook that Dan's been carrying around recently, the one laying on his end table, the one where he started writing dirty limericks and is slowly leaning toward more intricate poetry, almost like lyrics. “You not doing your own thing?”  
  
This is it. It's a perfect lead-in. He licks his lips, rubs the back of his neck, tries not to be any more obvious than he already is. “Well, you know, I'm just...I was doing stuff.”  
  
“Stuff,” Arin says dryly, doesn't even bother with a question mark.  
  
“Yeah, I mean. You know. Dude stuff.”  
  
Arin watches him with a deadpan expression. And then he speaks. “So you're watching porn, you mean.”  
  
Dan rolls his eyes, turns away because if he doesn't he's gonna give everything away, and no, this all pretty much stands on Arin thinking its his plan, doesn't it? He's pretty sure that's how this goes, at least. If there's something he can't really be pinned as, it's a mastermind. He's more the patsy. “Shut up.”  
  
“At least tell me it's the good porn.” Arin's clearly amused even if he isn't laughing. His deep, syrupy tone is practically dripping with it. “I don't know if I could live with you if you're jacking it to the gross shit where they're treating the girl like a piece of trash.”  
  
“Nah bruh, that's not...no.” He laughs, though, all the nerves bubbling up inside him like carbonation. “No, yeah, it's the good stuff.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah, totally! Why do you even care?”  
  
“Because, Daniel,” Arin drawls as he hops up from the bed and bumps him out of the way to the computer, “I'd hate to think that you need some adult supervision. Lemme see this.”  
  
“Dude.”  
  
“Shh.” He clicks around a little until he's in the browser, until the tab's pulled up and running. He cocks his head to the side. “Huh.”  
  
He's blushing, Dan realizes, just a little, just enough. He clears his throat. “Yeah?”  
  
“Nothing. Just didn't take you for somebody who likes camgirls.”  
  
“She, uh...she and her boyfriend make a good team,” he says absently, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
Arin watches the screen curiously, even reaching to turn the speakers on, and after around ten seconds he blows it up to full screen, kicks Dan's desk chair out of the way, plops down on his bed again and gives Dan a challenging look. “So?”  
  
“...so?”  
  
“You up for it? Hanging out?”  
  
“What, watching porn?” Dan asks, and the incredulous tone, that's one hundred percent natural, actually, because wow, that happened a lot faster than it should have.  
  
“Why not?” Arin waggles his eyebrows at him. “We both do it alone, so why not together? You scared of dicks, bro?”  
  
And that's _really_ not an answer that he's equipped to deal with right now. So he just gulps and sits down beside him. He tries to figure out if he's too close or not.  
  
He can feel Arin's body heat. But neither of them are moving, are they?  
  
And yeah, the girl's hot, and it's really fucking sexy to watch her boyfriend going down on her, and eventually the quiet sound of tips being fed to them sort of blends into the background when the couple is groaning and moving together, but it's not really...quite the thing, is it? Not for Dan. Not when he's sitting next to Arin, catching things like the smell of his shampoo and the way he brushes the hair out of his eyes so he can see a little better.  
  
He's pretty sure Arin's the one who moves his hand first.  
  
He can't look, oh shit, he's not allowed, he knows that, it's in the Bro Code somewhere out there, but through his peripheral vision he can just barely see the heel of Arin's hand gently pressing into the bulge of his pajama pants in one long, leisurely movement.  
  
He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe until he hears Arin's breath catch in his chest. And that's when he follows suit.  
  
Okay, this is working well, this is working really _really_ well, and boy, doesn't he just feel like a piece of trash for it? But the guilt's not enough. He's still almost breathless, waiting, stirring those little spikes of adrenaline and heat in his belly with every grind of his own palm's heel, and it's all worth it when Arin stops breathing for half a second before letting it all out in a rush.  
  
Danny caves. He looks.  
  
Arin's fished out his cock, slipped it through the opening of both his boxers and his pajama pants – shit, is he wearing boxers at _all?_  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
It's nice. It's fucking nice to look it. _God-fucking-shit-damn._ Every swear he knows starts parading by in his head, even some in Yiddish, and he licks his lips, forces his eyes back to the screen, but finds it almost impossible to ignore the fact that he's not seeing anything on it, is too busy hearing the trace of Arin's fingers against his skin.  
  
Oh shit, this was a mistake.  
  
Arin licks his palm right then, one smooth stroke of his tongue, before grabbing his cock, starting to pump it slowly, teasingly, like he's going to treat himself this time around, like he wants to be here for hours touching himself, edging himself over and over again.  
  
Christ, he's not here for this, he can't handle it, he just...  
  
His skin is thrumming like the pluck of a guitar string, soundless vibrations playing over him like nothing else as he swells painfully inside his jeans, but just the thought of sliding down his zipper is embarrassing, like the sound would break every tentative little beat of silence that rises every time the two people on the screen quiet down. So he doesn't. He just rubs furiously at his hardness and bites his bottom lip, hoping that once, just this once, he won't chafe painfully in his clothes.  
  
It's already not working.  
  
Okay, he made this happen for one reason and one reason only, Danny tells himself, so he risks it. He turns his head. He takes a long, lingering look at the curve of Arin's cock, the flush of the head, the shining drop of pre-cum that's already formed there.  
  
Arin's hand slows a little more, making such long, luxurious strokes that he might as well be being filmed instead. There's a soft groan that makes Dan look up, and he almost has a heart attack when he meets Arin's eyes.  
  
Shit.  
  
“You like what you see, Avidan?” Arin asks softly, and maybe it's supposed to be teasing, but there's still a touch of confusion. He's genuinely asking, Danny realizes. But he's not stopping his stroking. He's not moving away.  
  
Dan just had the idea. Dan just set up the possible scenario. But he didn't have to do a goddamn thing, not even take a single step, before Arin set it into motion, and that means that ultimately Dan had absolutely nothing to do with it.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
Danny hesitates just a second longer before he flicks his tongue over his lips again. “Guess I'm not that scared of dicks after all, right?”  
  
Arin glances over his face, top to bottom, hand speeding just a touch more.  
  
He's watching him, he really is, Arin is studying him and the way he's rolling his palm over the bulge in his jeans. So he swallows down any hesitation he has and pulls down the zipper as carefully as he can before he shoves everything down around his knees. Arin's eyes zero in on his cock immediately, and he's biting his bottom lip, so Danny reclines back a bit, rests his lean torso against the bed, putting everything on display.  
  
He remembers being in front of their theater class, the way that he ate up the attention, the way he fed his energy into Arin so he reacted just as vibrantly. He has an infectious personality when he's performing, always has.  
  
Apparently it's working here too.  
  
“What about you, Hanson?” he tosses back, voice a low murmur. “You gonna freak out on me?”  
  
Arin breathes a soft moan as he pumps his hand a little faster, rolling his hips with the movement.  
  
“Or do you wanna see what I can do?”  
  
“Depends what you've got up your sleeve,” Arin says softly.  
  
“Or what I've got in hand?”  
  
He chuckles, cheeks flushing, smiling tentatively as he meets Dan's eyes for a second. “Yeah, maybe, what've you got?”  
  
His body carries him forward before his mind can catch up, has him pressing Arin gently into the mattress and straddling his hips in the process. “You wanna find out?”  
  
Arin responds by shoving his pajama pants down, just as boxer-free as Danny thought he was. “Depends.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“...why're you doing this?”  
  
That's the rub, isn't it? Danny closes his eyes tightly for a second, catches his breath, captures his thoughts. And then he forces himself to speak. “...because...I-I may or may not...have had this little like crush thing on you for like three years? And I maybe just...really...want you?”  
  
Silence. Absolute silence. Danny stays safely behind his eyelids. And then he feels a little brush of fingers against his cheek, skittering and dry and nervous, and he opens his eyes, meets Arin's gaze. “Shit, Dan.”  
  
“...what?”  
  
“What took you so long?” he whispers, lips spreading into a grin.  
  
Holy fucking shit.  
  
Danny lets the surge carry him, leans down, crashes their lips together, and yeah, okay, their noses actually collide pretty painfully and their teeth click together, but he doesn't give a shit because fuck, he's kissing Arin, he's tasting him, he's tangling their tongues and running his fingers through his hair and everything.  
  
He doesn't have a clue what he's doing, but apparently it's working because Arin is responding super favorably, all moans and whimpers and groans, and he's shoving a hand in Dan's hair too. There's a painful spark when Arin's fingers get tangled and he sort of rips them out, but maybe that's okay too. He can put up with a little awkwardness right now.  
  
Besides, when he reaches down and wraps his hand around the both of their cocks and presses them together, base-to-base, he doesn't accidentally smack Arin in the balls or anything, so that's gotta be good.  
  
He can't even hear the sex on the computer behind him, not when Arin's a vocal little shit, whispering things like “Fuck yeah” and “Holy shit” and “Oh, right there, fucking _right there_ ” in his ear as he grinds their hips together. God, he's addicting. He's lighting little fires like matches all through Danny's blood, burning little patches inside of him, making him gasp every time. He curves his head to suck marks into Arin's neck with every rock of his hips, every automatic attempt to fuck him silly, to fuck their cocks together in his hand.  
  
“You're so gorgeous,” Danny whispers against his skin, listens to Arin gasp and shiver. “So fucking gorgeous, shit, I can't keep my eyes off you, never have-”  
  
“Can't believe you waited this long, you bastard-”  
  
Danny's hips stutter against his, try to find a rhythm, but it's only when Arin reaches around and digs his fingers into his ass that he finds it again, works with the pull of Arin's arms until he's a whimpering mess. “That good?” Danny whispers.  
  
“Y-yeah...”  
  
“You gonna show me how good, huh?”  
  
“Fuck-!”  
  
“C'mon, Arin, fucking show me, fucking come for me...”  
  
“Danny!”  
  
And he does, shit, he lets go, and it gets all over Danny's t-shirt – why did he think it was a good idea to keep all his clothes on again? – but Danny pumps him through his orgasm anyway, pumps the both of them, takes Arin's cries and the fireworks they send down his spine until he's coming too and probably screaming the roof off the apartment while he's at it.  
  
He grinds their cocks together just a few last times, teasing out every last sensation of their orgasms. And then he rolls and lands on the bed beside Arin, both of them panting, sweating messes.  
  
It's silent. The camworkers have stopped filming. And Arin is the first to speak. “You decided. To seduce me. With porn.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Smooth.”  
  
“Shut _up!_ '  
  
But Arin laughs and buries his face in the warmth of Danny's neck, wraps his arm around his torso, cuddles him close, so apparently everything's okay.  
  
They fall asleep like that after five minutes, safe and warm and content, and Dan dreams like he hasn't dreamed in years.


End file.
